


The Maze

by dee_thequeenbee



Series: Iridescence Verse [3]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Missing Year (Once Upon a Time)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 13:04:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16018490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dee_thequeenbee/pseuds/dee_thequeenbee





	The Maze

It comes out of nowhere, during a cold morning, in January. They’re back in the castle since two months, and the winter is ablaze – hunting is hard, sometimes the hunters come back wide handed. Granny made sure to stock the kitchen with non perishable goods, with the common sense of an old woman who faced famine and wars. That night, it snows, so no one really realizes something is changing – not the ones who were on patrol, not the ones who were on watch. The night is so black and still, that everyone misses the exact moment when it happens. But in the morning, just before dawn, Regina wakes, and she sees it.

The maze.

It’s massive – huge, it covers all the land starting from the castle walls, surrounds them, until the edge of the forest. It cuts down any access they may have had to the outside world.

_I’m here and I’m watching_ , her sister’s voice says in her mind. _I’m always watching you, Regina_.

She tries once, even though she knows it’s no use. Curls her hand in a slow motion. Her magic rolls from her fingers, fizzles and disappears.

They are trapped.

.

“If you’re not going to give an actual, useful contribution to solve this problem, you can as well go back to whatever egg you exited from, dwarf,” she spits angrily, at the council meeting that morning. “Does someone have a solution that doesn’t involve the words _magic_ and _axes_?”

“Fire?” Ruby shrugs, and Regina hisses, _For heaven’s sake_.

“Let’s just… take a break, shall we?” Snow proposes, “we’ve been sitting at this table since forever and… I think we could all use a moment of relax to collect ourselves.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Regina answers, spiteful, stands up before the others and storms out the room, to the nearest balcony she can find. The air does nothing to calm her down, neither do the deep breaths she’s slowly taking, because as soon as her gaze drops to the grounds, she sees the very reason of her anger.

Her eyes squeeze closed, as her hands curl in fists around the railing, the hot stinging of tears pushing past her illusion of a mask. Her hand slams down on the hard steel, and when it lifts again, it’s caught by another, warmer, stronger.

“I can’t see why you would want to hurt your hand over this, milady,” the thief says, her head snapping towards him, a cocky smile on his lips.

“Self-harming tendencies and a proclivity to drama,” she answers, quick as thunder. “What are you doing here, pray tell?”

“Searching for a bit of fresh air,” he says, easily. He’s still holding her hand. She doesn’t reclaim it back. “I am sorry about earlier.” When she looks at him questioningly, he tilts his head. “The dwarves. They can be… difficult.”

“You tell me, as if I haven’t known them since decades,” she huffs. Her gaze roams to the labyrinth again, her eyes searching, trying, hoping to postpone what she knows it’s inevitable – and the only solution she can think of. “We are under siege. The dwarves are the last of my concerns.”

“Except they’re not, are they?” he counters. “You’re feeling responsible. You think it’s your duty to solve this problem.”

She takes back her hand, sliding it away from his. The coldness of the steel is much more amicable than his unpredictable warmth.

“Isn’t it, though?” she asks, quietly. “It _is_ my duty. My fault. Everything my sister does, is my fault.”

“I beg to differ,” he says. His eyes are on the horizon, and she hates that he can read her so well, whereas he’s so impenetrable, so sure of himself, so – sane. Healthy. Normal. She wonders what it feels like, not to have layer after layer of traumas.

“Your sister makes her own choices, and the victim of vengeance is almost never entirely at fault. Or, not completely. When vengeance… involves more people, it stops being vengeance, and starts becoming something more – the witch is targeting all of us, milady. This is not a duel between her and you, not anymore.” His eyes turn to hers, and she has not enough time to divert her own. “Don’t give yourself blame for something you haven’t done.”

“But I can blame myself for not being able to fix this,” she whispers. She shield herself from his attempts to make her _see_ , almost as if it’s unnatural, as if it’s impossible they’d want to protect her and help her – as if… it’s because she’s _one of their own_. As if she belongs.

“We’ll fix it,” he promises. “You just have to believe.”

A needle pricks at her heart, she can’t help the sniff mixed to laughter that comes from her belly. “You sound an awful lot like my son.”

“A wise lad,” he agrees. “Don’t beat yourself up about this, milady.”

He leaves her on the balcony, the labyrinth and her own thoughts as company.

.

They’ve been trapped since three days, and Regina is bored.

She went through different stages – rage, mostly, but also guilt, and rage again, and fear, resignation, helplessness, but now she’s bored. It doesn’t even matter that her sister has actually been better than her at casting this spell. That she can’t find a counter-spell to end this damned maze once and for all. That the inhabitants of the castle, bar some of them, have started glaring at her with even more intensity than usual, when they walk across the corridors.

As if it’s her responsibility to fix this – as if she’s weak, because she has been bragging along her magic and her power for most of her life as queen, and now, when that same power is needed, she is as useless as the last of the maids.

She starts living that secluded life of her first days in the castle, when the grief for Henry was so unbearable that she lived in her chambers, without any contact with the outside world. She spends days looking at the sky and at the forest, wishing nothing more than to take her horse and go riding on the hills.

The days are chilly of the winter winds, the nights even colder, the snow doesn’t give sign of giving up in its quiet conquer of their world. She starts trying new strategies – enchants arrows she has stolen from the thief, sends them to the forest and kills deer, rabbits, birds, as many as she manages, then uses her magic to transport them inside the walls. It drains her immensely. The toll they request of her body often surpasses that same energy she’d gain by eating them. She becomes weaker, but this seems to soothe the souls of her angry subjects.

Not all of them.

Snow finds her on her bed, one evening, almost passed out, and scolds her with that maternal streak not even twenty-eight years and two curses have been able to tame.

She’s vaguely aware of Granny, in the background, and maybe the thief, maybe Roland – _oh no, please, anyone but Roland_ – but she just wants to sleep, really, just to close her eyes, she’ll be alright, she hears talking of IVs and force-feeding, and she groans. Thank the gods they don’t have access to the hospital equipment.

“Drink up,” Snow instructs, lifts her head and forces something warm between her lips. It’s milk, with honey and herbs, her head spins and she catches, distractedly, a solitary thought – that she’s probably looking like a fool, an immature child who can’t take care of herself. “You should probably stop using magic for a while, Regina,” she hears her whisper, as the princess helps her drink. “But everyone is so grateful for what you did.”

“What a nice change,” she murmurs faintly. “Can you let me sleep now?”

“If you agree to let someone stay here with you,” Snow says, sternly.

Regina nods, uncaring, rolls on her side, her eyes sinking close.

.

Three days later, she’s splayed on a chair, reading a book, when she hears the shouts from downstairs.

At first, she doesn’t want to inquire. It must be a stupid dwarf-problem again, or maybe Charming has lost around his favorite sword, or they’re out of raspberries. The castle is usually buzzing with activity, so occasional shouts are completely normal, and she tries to ignore them, to focus on the blurring words on the page. She’s looking for a spell, as usual, but apparently, the magic from Oz is just frustratingly _so_ different from hers.

She’s almost succeeded in her task, when her doors barge open, don’t leave her enough time to open her mouth for an outraged reaction, because Robin’s face is absolutely horrified.

“Regina,” he lets out, looking so distraught she doesn’t have the heart to correct him. “Regina, Roland went inside the maze.”

Her eyes widen, her heart filling with dread in a split instant.

“No,” she breathes. Her book falls to the ground.

His expression is answer enough for her to be shaken off her stupor, waving her hand once, she finds herself clad in high boots and a fur cape. “I’ll go,” she informs him, doesn’t even let him open his mouth to answer, “Robin,” her hold on his hand is probably painful, but she doesn’t care. “He needs you to be here for him if… _when_ he’ll be back.”

“And you?” he tells her, arching an eyebrow. “Regina, I’m coming with –”

“No,” she whispers. “I have nothing to lose. I’m sorry.”

She goes away before he can finish to whisper, _You know that’s not true_.

.

It irks her, how her sister can be so amazingly good at pissing her off. She wears her determination like a fog of fury, of demonic rush down the stairs and in the courtyard and finds her path – previously untouched and undisturbed – blocked by Little John.

“You’re not going alone, your Majesty,” he says, towering, imposing from up above, and she doesn’t like it, how he makes her feel small and scolded like a child. She crosses her arms, already starting to feel the warmth from under her cape.

“I do believe I am, in fact, going,” she retorts, scowling at him. “Now let me through. After all, your own leader has agreed…”

“I don’t think I have, milady,” Robin’s voice comes from her left, slightly harsh, him sporting his bow and quiver and an equally heavy cape. “John, you’re in charge until we’re back.”

“Splendid,” the man agrees, jovial, and now, now he moves aside to let her pass, “good luck then, your Majesty, Rob,” receiving a glare from Regina and a pat on his arm from Robin.

“What the hell was that?” she spits, as they walk towards the walls. “I specifically told you…”

“It’s my son, Regina,” he cuts. She has never seen him so distressed. “Wouldn’t you do the same? Move the heavens and the oceans for yours?”

“I would have,” she murmurs. “I did.”

The fact that he doesn’t apologize – he doesn’t acknowledge the way she shut down, the way his comment stings still, that is signal enough he – except he does, he offers half a smile, a squeeze of her hand, and she tells her impudent heart to quiet down its jolts, because _Roland_ , he’s the priority at the moment, not her own stupid tragedies.

.

The maze is… high.

It didn’t look so high, from the safety of her balcony. Now she stands at the entry, side by side with the man whose son she’s trying to save, and she looks up. She’s fairly certain the maze has grown up, during the nights.

“Alright,” she breathes out, her words exiting in a puff of visible air. “For heavens’ sake, thief, while we’re in there, follow my orders. This beast of a labyrinth is basically spurting magic from every leaf, and I know you like to think you know the forest and everything green, but this trust me, you do not know.”

“As milady wishes,” he whispers. She barely registers how he simply went along with her demand, without putting up any resistance, whereas she would have expected some kind of retort, or at least a bit of his insufferable and completely useless flirting. It must show how worried he is, she thinks, if he accepted her guidance without blinking an eye.

“Good. Now, let me focus for a moment,” she asks softly, and he nods, steps respectfully aside, waits for her to take a deep breath and begin. The chant that she has to perform under his watchful eyes is difficult and ancient, for it comes from eons ago, from another land entirely, a land where gods walked between people and the world was full of gold and blood.

She forgets everything – her worries, the warmth of Robin’s form next to her, her sister, as her hands move slowly, in circles, and close and open around the form of an imaginary ball. The words are in another language, a long monotone string from a lost world, and she closes her eyes, focuses on the object of her quest.

_Roland_.

Roland and his smile and his shyness, his pure heart and the little hand he sometimes offers her when they walk together. Roland and the flowers he brings her to make her smile. His belief and his kindness.

Her hands start getting warmer, but still her eyes are close, doesn’t dare to open them, to interrupt her chant, but hears a sharp intake of breath from Robin, and smiles, knowing she must have succeeded. When she opens her eyes, the object in her hands has just stopped glowing, and her hands are losing their aura of gold and silver to reveal what’s inside.

“A ball of yarn,” Robin says, his brow furrowing. “I think I get what this is about.”

“Ariadne’s thread,” Regina says, satisfied with the product of her magic, as she rolls the ball in her hands. “I suppose you know about the myth. This will lead us to your son, hopefully, assuming… assuming I didn’t make mistakes.”

“I trust you,” he tells her with ease, and she sees his hand sliding under hers, cupping them, as his other hand closes above the ball. “But magic comes with a price. What did you have to give up, to obtain this artifact?”

“Oh,” her eyes snap up to meet his for an instant, and she averts her eyes immediately. “That’s… not an issue right now. Don’t worry about it,” she brushes it off, because how could she explain that she had to think of love, of happiness and of everything good? That she had to force away those shadows of darkness her heart is clouded with, to the point that it physically pained her?

“Now, give me your hand,” she continues. She pushes an end of the thread into his waiting hand and curls her fingers around his. “Wait here for us,” she tells him. Their eyes meet, for a moment that feels longer than forever, and she thinks she could almost cry. “And… if it glows, if it burns, we’re in danger, so… call for help, give them the thread, and come. But it must be someone who cares for the people inside the maze.”

“Got it,” he tells her, squeezes her fingers. “Regina… I…”

“I know,” she answers, even though she doesn’t really know. If he wanted to wish her good luck, or tell her how worried he is, or something else entirely.

.

She unravels the skein slowly, walking inside the maze, where it looks like time has stopped entirely. There is silence, the snow still falling, and she doesn’t dare to call for Roland. When she has left Robin, she has done so without looking back at him.

Right, left, right again, her footprints are heavy and visible. The thread glows softly, but it’s not a sign of danger, it’s too mellow to be. _Roland_ , she whispers, the wind is the only answer she gets. Right, left, left, right. Straight ahead.

Green, white, grey. Black.

Right, left. Right, left. Headache. Left.

The thread is warm in her hand, her only anchor to safety, and her fingers hold on to it as if it’s her lifeline.

Left, straight ahead, right.

_Regina_ , she hears. _Regina_.

It’s not Roland.

She burrows further inside her cape, her feet pressing down the snow, her gaze going up to see if she can still see the castle. The skein is becoming littler, and she worries it will end before she’s able to find Roland.

Right, left.

_Regina_.

“Come on, darling,” she pants, bites her lip. “Where are you?”

_Regina_.

It’s a whisper, it slithers through her veins, and she knows it’s her sister, or one of her stupid minions, she knows it’s Zelena’s way to drive her insane.

The thread glows a little brighter.

Robin is not completely shielded from danger, either. But the thread isn’t burning yet, so she walks some more, and walks some more, until her breaths burn her lungs and she can’t feel her uncovered skin anymore.

She walks and walks and suddenly stops because she simply can’t go on.

She stifles a scream as she looks down – a horrible vine, has enveloped itself around her ankle, its thorns pushing through the leather of her boots and she goes down, her hands stopping the fall, the thread rolling on a side. The vine starts pulling her and she kicks, her hands moving as instinctually as she can, trying to make fire, but she can’t.

_No._

_It can’t end like this._

The vine keeps pulling and it’s stronger than she is, her hands bloody when she tries to push away the thorns, and kicks away the bushes that have started engulfing her, but she knows this is not what her sister would want… this had to be a trap if someone other than her would come into the maze…

“Leave me be, you worthless idiot,” she hisses, why she doesn’t know, but the vine stops. Just like that, and she frees her ankle with a startling sob, limping up slowly, and retrieves the skein.

Walks some more, then, the cold shaking her bones, until the labyrinth becomes less tall, less imposing, until she walks just inside a clearing – that has to be the exact middle.

Sitting under a tall statue, on the ground, looking so small and alone – there he is.

“ _Roland_ ,” she breathes, almost dropping the thread as she runs towards him. She falls, crouches down and envelops him in a hug, a hug he gives back with equal intensity, murmuring _Majesty_ against her hair. “Roland, baby. I’m so sorry,” she almost cries, because she is, because it shouldn’t have happened to him – not to the purest of them all, not because she’s got a deranged sister.

“It’s okay,” he answers, smiles, his eyes shining of tears. “I knew you were coming to get me. I’m sorry I went into the maze…”

“It’s alright, baby, it’s alright,” she whispers, “I’m here now, you’re safe,” even though it’s a lie, and he is not, not yet, not until he’s in his father’s arms – or more exactly, not until her sister is dead or thrown over the rainbow.

“Are you sure about that, sis?” a voice comes from their left, Regina’s head snaps to the side and it’s Zelena, of course, right in the middle of the trap she has set up.

She gets up immediately, so quickly that her joints protest, and pushes Roland behind her, hidden by her cape. “Zelena,” she spits, with so much rage it slithers though her voice, feeling the small child trembling in fear. “Congrats on a well-executed plan, sis. Not creepy at all, to create a labyrinth just to lure me inside. I may almost feel honored you went to such great lengths for me.”

“Well it worked, didn’t it?” Zelena asks, smug triumph in her voice. “You finally are where I wanted you to be.”

“Wait –” Regina hates how her voice sounds – almost weak, pleading, her hand raised up. “Roland, let him go. I know you’re not interested in him, just… let him go, he’s innocent.”

“I suppose,” Zelena answers, almost bored. “The little monkey can go, or else you’d be distracted all the time trying to protect him.”

Regina exhales – and it breaks her, but she crouches down, and places the skein on the ground, the thread now glowing of silver and gold, and she clasps her hands around Roland’s shoulders. “Roland, listen to me,” she whispers, the urge of being understood clear in her voice. “You must follow this thread, okay? Run as fast as you can and go back to your daddy, honey, never lose the sight of the thread, and – _run_.”

“But R’gina,” he sniffs, “what about you?”

“I’ll be alright,” she lies, tears in her smile, “I promise, but go, please, run!”

He nods, still uncertain, and throws his arms around her neck, whispering, _Promise you’ll come home_ , and she says back _Okay_ , and Roland looks at her one last time and starts running back to the castle, back to safety and to Robin. She stands up, watches him go, and suddenly she’s startled by a sound of hands clapping slowly.

“What a wonderful scene,” Zelena mocks her. “I guess you _are_ a good little mother, after all…”

“Shut up,” she mutters, her hands shaking, her heart thumping, _how dare this bitch_ , her veins pulsing and magic fizzling, relieved to see Roland turn the corner and escape from their view. “What do you want from me?” she asks, needlessly, because she knows exactly what the witch wants, and she’s just trying to buy herself some time. Why, she doesn’t know. It’s not likely she’ll get any kind of support in here – no one will try to venture inside the maze, not for her.

“I just want to take everything from you, sis,” Zelena says, sickeningly sweet. “Now imagine how it would be, to imprison you inside, here, and turn myself into you…” she reaches for a necklace, one Regina didn’t notice before, and twists it.

She just catches a glimpse, but enough for her to see how Zelena becomes her, for a moment, her split image before she turns back to herself again.

“No,” she breathes out.

“Oh yes,” her sister answers. “Don’t tell me you grew fond of this life?” Her hand raises to catch Regina’s chin between cold, gloved fingers. “That’s surprising. And imagine how many damages I could create, once I’ve taken your place.”

Regina snatches her head away from her hold, and hisses, “Give me my magic back, you coward.”

“Why should I?” Zelena smiles. “You’re exactly where I want you to be.”

.

The thread is still burning between his fingers as he waits, and he can feel his heartbeat, its pulse in sync with the glowing wool.

“Papa?”

Roland is still attached to his leg, his sobs have quietened from still-scared-to-death to emotionally traumatized, and his heart is heavy when he tells his son, “Go with John and Tuck, son. I fear I can’t come with you yet.”

“Papa, where’s Regina?” he asks, tears in his eyes. Robin looks down to him.

“That’s what I’m trying to find out, son,” he says. He crouches down to Roland’s height, and tells him, “I promise you I will bring her home, alright?”

“No need for that,” a voice comes from behind him. “I’m here.”

“Regina!” Roland screams, tears all but forgotten as he disentangles himself from his father’s arms and runs to her. He slams against her legs, and she looks down, confused, as he hugs her.

“I’m fine,” she says, puzzled. Robin raises slowly, and watches her, thinking, because the thread still burns, and she looks… weird. “What?” she asks, and he frowns.

He thinks quickly, because he only has a split second before she’ll start suspecting something. If his thoughts are correct, he needs to act fast.

“Nothing, milady,” he bows his head, and turns swiftly to John, whispers, “Bring the Queen and Roland inside and send the Princess or the Prince here.”

Something is not right. Regina smiles at him – almost warmly, and he watches them go, growing impatient as he waits – it is strange how she didn’t mention the thread, how she didn’t protest about being sent inside, and overall… on how she’s fine, untouched by the witch’s magic, as if she’s just taken a leisure stroll inside the maze. Robin waits and holds the thread, his heart thumping, wondering if he’s just lured all the castle’s inhabitants into a splendid trap.

.

Snow arrives with David and a bow, even though she wouldn’t need it, but she has come prepared for anything.

“Robin,” she pants as they stop next to him – still holding the thread and looking towards the maze, as if he could spot the truth across the walls of green. “Robin, what’s the matter? What happened, why are you still here?”

“Do we have a way to stop the magic powers of someone who wields them?” he asks, because he hasn’t got time for useless questions.

“We…” Snow, confused, looks at her husband and nods, “I guess Regina has something in her vault or her room… I assume we still have some squid ink or…”

“That’s perfect,” he cuts. “Because I want you to go inside, your Highness,” he tells David, “and to retrieve it. We’ll need it later, but don’t tell a soul about it. And, please, take Roland and tell him to stay with my men,” he says, then pushes the thread between Snow’s fingers. “Now you should stay here, princess, and wait for me while I venture inside the maze.”

“Robin, what – ”

“We don’t have time for explanations, just… do as I say, please,” he means it, there’s no time, and he watches David go as he prays the prince will accomplish his tasks silently, without speaking to anyone. Not even the Queen. Because – if Robin is correct, if he reads the signs well, that one most definitely _isn’t_ the Queen.

Snow sighs, as though she knows it’s no use to debate with him, not while he’s in this dreadful state of worry, and holds the string in her hand as she motions ahead. “Go, I’ll wait for you,” she says. He nods, squeezes her hand for a moment, then dives into the maze.

.

Her sight is blurry, her mind foggy, and she can’t feel her legs. She moans weakly, the stone-hard back of the statue pushing against her back, her limbs accurately restrained, and she curses her sister for the umpteenth time. The snow is cold under her cape, its fur starting to drench as she struggles in her bonds. Her efforts are useless, it seems, because the ropes don’t budge.

The back of her head still hurts from when she hit it against the statue, but there’s nothing she can do about it. Deprived of her magic, of the freedom for her body, no one would hear her screams. She doesn’t even know if the skein is still there – or if Zelena has, after all, taken it to go back to the castle, taking her place, insufferable bitch – there’s no one who can save her in that case, no one will know where to find her, and what if they fall for Zelena’s acting skills? What if –

A rustling noise startles her. And a voice, that at this point she fully believes to be a product of her imagination.

“Milady?”

The thread – she can see it now, nestled in the melting snow – it’s glowing softly, and there’s a tall figure coming into the clearing, and then rushing towards her and dropping down on his knees.

“Regina?”

His gloved hand cups her cheek.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she says, sounding a lot weaker than she intended to. “You… you found me,” she murmurs, as he starts working on her ropes, “How? How did you know…”

“She didn’t hug Roland,” he says easily, simply, as if it’s nothing – as if he hasn’t just beaten a powerful witch’s deceit, “and… no offense, milady, but you’re not so simple to imitate.”

“Yes, I wouldn’t imagine I am,” she answers, massaging her free wrists where the ropes cut her skin. “I’m going to murder that bitch.”

“Not so fast,” he says, his arm passing around her shoulders, and bless him, he makes her stand and ties his own cape around her. “We have to be careful, we don’t want her to understand she’s been caught.”

She nods curtly, starts limping towards the fallen skein, but he halts her with a gentle hand on her arm. “Wait.”

She turns, holding her breath.

“Regina… are you alright?”

It’s scary how deep he is capable to look – how his eyes find her soul and strip it bare. “No, I’m not alright,” her voice breaks on the last word, and her façade trembles and falls as her shoulders shake under the weight of her confession. “I’m… bleeding, and cold, I still have thorns buried into my ankle, and I really thought I was going to die while tied to that stupid statue. But… we should go,” she adds, trying desperately to bring back some resemblance of dignity.

“Wait,” he tells her, and before she knows it, he’s pulled her into his arms, and – at some other time, she’d have throttled him for this, but, for once, just for once, she allows herself this crumb of care he is willing to give – _my soulmate_ , she thinks, _how convenient_ , and presses her nose against the crook of his shoulder and feels him tremble – he was worried, she realizes. Worried about her, when he understood she was not, in fact, the woman who came back, but rather, she was trapped inside the hellish maze.

She forces herself to push back, after a short moment that felt much longer, and coughs. “Yes, I – we should…”

“Of course,” he murmurs, and if it weren’t for the darkening hour of the day and for the shadow of the bushes, she could swear she saw him blush.

.

He berates himself during all the trip back. And it works, for when they reach the start of the maze, his brief weak demonstration of affection is all but gone, and his focused mind is now set on its next task. To bring down the witch.

Regina is not alright, not by a long shot. She let him support her during the walk, her legs still a bit wobbly, and he knows how much it costs for her to admit she needs help. But he won’t talk about it. There is so much they don’t talk of, and he watches as she rolls up the skein and hides it in her cloak.

Snow White is still waiting, holds the burning skein as if it’s something she must defend against anything, and her face smoothens when she spots them. “Regina,” she says, her hug expected but not entirely unwelcomed by the Queen. “Are you okay?”

“I’m cold, and pissed off, but I guess I’ll survive,” she answers, and Robin sees the shadow of darkness in her eyes. His heart somersaults as he thinks of Roland, and he prays he’s safe, that David managed to steer him away from the witch.

“Can you use magic?” he asks, out of curiosity, because he’d rather see her rest for a while – staying outside in the snow is not good for anyone – but they have more pressing matters in their hands right now. Tiny pink flames erupt and dance on the tips of her fingers, then she pushes them away. Sends them down to her feet and he thinks, healing magic. “Yes,” she says needlessly. Without further ado, she waves her hand and – suddenly, she’s not herself anymore, but her face has changed into some other, more anonymous and hopefully fit to trick the witch.

“Let’s go,” she says, another puff of smokes changing her clothes to a more modest attire.

As they walk, Robin asks about something that has confused him ever since the witch has emerged the maze. “Why didn’t she see the thread? Or ask about it?”

“Because it was invisible to her,” Regina cuts, as if she doesn’t want to offer further explanation. He suspects there’s more about it, but he won’t push – not for now. There’ll be time – at least, so he hopes. After. After they’ve defeated the witch, or, better, they’ve won another battle in this never-ending war.

.

She is there in the courtyard – Zelena, she is, but at least Roland and Robin’s men are nowhere in sight. She could slit her throat for daring to wear her face, but she keeps her eyes down.

“Regina,” Snow says to her sister, as if she didn’t know of her real identity.

Regina stops in the shadow, lets Snow and Robin go further, and her hand curls around Robin’s bow.

“We wanted to know if you really are alright, milady,” Robin says to the witch, and she only gives back a snarl.

“Why should I share the matters of my health with you two? Really typical, to let me do all the job and find that brat for you.”

She sees Robin from afar – and she knows his poker face is flawless, perfected in many years of thievery, but she spots his hand curl into a fist. She slowly takes the arrow from underneath her cape and settles it at its place, the bow lifting oh so slowly, while the three of them are still talking.

Robin’s hand slides behind his back where the witch can’t see it, and he gives her the signal.

She likes to think she’s been quick, and steady, when she takes advantage of the shadows to lift the bow and pull the string – breathes, and releases.

But she wasn’t quick enough.

Zelena’s hand lifts and catches the arrow mid-air, as Regina exits her hideout, her cape sliding down, her face back to normal.

“Hello, sis,” the witch greets her, turning the necklace with her free hand. The red mane replaces raven hair as Zelena grins. “I see your aim is not as perfect as you thought.”

“On the contrary,” Regina smiles, her fingers still gripping the bow. “I have you exactly where I wanted you to be.”

“No,” Zelena says, almost growls, when she sees the tell-tale blue glow of the squid ink as her legs start their spell of immobilization. Snow and Robin step back, a smile on their face as all three of them watch the witch, almost glowing of victory, but she says it again, _NO_ , and waves her hand. When she understands what she’s doing, Regina screams, outraged, and curls her hand into the start of a fireball, but the winged beast is quicker, and it curls its claws around its mistress’ wrists.

“No!” she yells, trying to stop her, before it flies away, but she doesn’t see as Robin grabs her waist and stops _her_ , instead, “let me go, that bitch, I have to – I want to,” they collapse to the floor together, looking up as the beast lifts Zelena up through the balcony and out to the skies. Free.

“No,” she murmurs, weak now. She was so close… so close to stopping her, and the witch beat her again.

“I’m sorry, Regina,” he says, slowly.

She hears Snow, in the background, saying she’s going to go search for David, but she doesn’t care. Nothing matters, just right now, except his arms around her and the endless feeling of failure clawing at her insides. “We’ll get her, one day,” Robin says. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t let you go with them, it could have hurt you. Let you fall.” He sounds horrified, his arms tensing a little.

“Yes, I know,” she whispers, thinking that maybe she should move, that the sky isn’t going to change, that it’s useless to stay when there’s so much to do.

But for now, she stays. Waits, just a moment, and there’ll be a time where Belle will tell her she’s found a book about magical mazes, and a time when she will allow the thief to comfort her – unguarded, and unburdened. A time when she will beat her sister. Maybe.

Just right now though, the sky is unchanged, her hand finds his, and she thinks of how he was able to find her inside the maze, because he cares. Maybe for now it’s enough.


End file.
